


icarus was in love with the idea of falling

by abettafish



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Bodily Fluids, Character Death, Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Limbs, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Suicidal Thoughts, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Winged TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Wilbur Soot, Wings, Wounds, but the bad kind, some - Freeform, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abettafish/pseuds/abettafish
Summary: They say to clip a bird’s wings is to cripple it. A true sign that it’s not free – that it’s meant for a cage much too small and plain with attention gifted only when its owner deems it interesting enough. Those birds wilt, sad and desolate with nothing to keep them afloat. They die and then they get replaced. So, to clip a bird’s wing is the worst fate you can bestow upon them.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 705





	icarus was in love with the idea of falling

**Author's Note:**

> i've rarely started and finished fics for friends. but, rarely do those friends inspire me enough with their kindness and generosity - and good angst ideas - to actually push through and finish. this is dedicated to my cosplay wife - dark.

They say to clip a bird’s wings is to cripple it. A true sign that it’s not free – that it’s meant for a cage much too small and plain with attention gifted only when its owner deems it interesting enough. Those birds wilt, sad and desolate with nothing to keep them afloat. They die and then they get replaced. So, to clip a bird’s wing is the worst fate you can bestow upon them.

Tommy wonders if Tubbo would have exiled him if he had known. 

Although, Tommy isn’t sure how much he knows about Tubbo nowadays. He knows Tubbo adored his wings. Such a novelty they were – Wilbur and him being the only two on the server who had them until Technoblade arrived. His were a precious mix of red and gold and when the right light hit them, they almost _shimmered_ like embers from a fledgling fire. Wilbur’s used to be a delicate silver, but with his new pale form they had begun taking on a blue hue. Tommy suspected it wouldn’t be long till they were completely saturated. He wonders if Ghostbur would lose his wings after that, adhering to the ghost’s tradition of throwing out the blue.

He wonders if it’ll be just as painful as losing his were.

 _Losing_ isn’t the right word. Losing something can be regretful, sad for the loss but in the end your world still moves forward. The earth may have had its axis shifted slightly for the briefest moment – but something that can be _lost_ can replaced or even reclaimed if you’re lucky. Tommy hasn’t had that much luck in many, many months.

No, Tommy’s wings were _stolen_ , pilfered like loot from his back by a thief who thought he _had the right to take what wasn’t his –_

Tommy shudders as phantom pains race along his back like a pack of howling dogs. The cuts Dream created with his axe still run hot and the bandages Tommy shakily wrapped around his torso afterwards caused the wounds to itch terribly. He couldn’t scratch the pesky sensation away, least he wanted to replace it with white hot streaks of pain instead.

Tommy had learned to pick his battles in that sense.

Dream was no help with it either. He barely acknowledges that they had even been there at all, but Tommy has caught him staring a few times. The heavy gaze almost made up for the missing weight on his shoulder blades. Tommy wonders what Dream did with them. Surely, it was a mess to move. Tommy passed out mid-way through the second wing, so he doesn’t know.

 _Of course,_ his friend was certainly taking good care of them, if he did keep them.

The ocean lets a spray of soft water coat his hair and shoulders. The salty tang in the air causes a pinch in his nose, but it’s better than being cooped up in his tent all day where the only thing he can smell is the copper tang of blood soaked into the hay and dirt. In a twisted way, he finds comfort in the smell. It means his wings were real and not just a feverish detail his memories conjured up to explain the emptiness he feels at his back.

Tommy shifts, uncomfortable on his man-made perch now. He could fall – like that boy from one of Techno’s stories. Although, the sun _was_ hidden behind a large bundle of dark clouds, so maybe he was safe from the gentle and warm, yet potentially murderous, sun’s rays. He’s sure that Icarus had a good reason for going so close to them, and from his position up here, Tommy can think of a few that make sense.

A noise startles him. He finds the ghostly brush of feathers curling along his upper arms gut wrenching. His wings, even when they’re gone, still try to protect him from the unknowns at his back. He turns; a frown pulls his lips down and his eyes feel weighty on his cheeks. He doesn’t try to hide the melancholy that’s been wringing his bones dry, because he is assuming that what he is going to see is the same white mask that prowls his nightmares.

It isn’t.

Technoblade stares down at him with an impartial expression. Tommy stares up like he’s a child with his hand in the cookie jar; a mounting horror that has no reasonable place here but is rising like flood waters nonetheless.

He doesn’t understand why, but the sight of the large red wings, tipped at the curve by a gentle white – like a cape over his shoulders – is terrifying.

“What _happened_?” The baritone voice wavers, giving away exactly how much Techno is burying underneath the surface in an attempt to hide the _everything_ bouncing around in his head.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy asks instead. His voice is small whisper on the verge of being drowned out by the crashing ocean waves below them.

“What happened to your _wings,_ Tommy?” Techno grits his teeth. The fury was curling up like a rising phoenix. Tommy was annoying, brash, made terrible decisions and yelled all too much – but he was important to Technoblade, in the way all family, blood or not, is important.

“Nothing _–!”_ Tommy shouts.

“Nothing?!” Techno bites and takes an angry step forward, “they’re _gone_ , Tommy!”

Tommy jolts and scrambles to move away from Techno – the edge of the tower coming under his palm, his fingers curling over it.

“Why do you care! Huh? What does it matter to you?” Tommy spits, a venom in his voice that Techno thinks isn’t really directed at him. He’s just the only one up on this lonely ledge to receive it. 

“You’ve been _mutilated_ ,” Techno hears his voice shake, genuinely and completely, for the first time in a long, long while.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, his silence such a foreign and disturbing action. A little bit of wind brushes his hair around his face. It’s gotten long, Techno notes. Has it really been that much time?

“And so, what? None of you were here to stop it.” The words hurt more than Tommy thought they would. None of them were here to stop anything that had happened on this god forsaken island. Not even Ghostbur showed his face anymore. Tommy honestly didn’t expect anyone to show up today, like they didn’t every other day, but here Techno stood, halting what he had been planning to do.

 _Figures_.

“I’m not going to let you blame me for this,” Techno voice is stern. “You’re here of your own accord. But this – this is too far. Did… Did Dream do this?”

It would make sense, Tommy wouldn’t do this to himself, _couldn’t_ do it to himself. The way Tommy is looking at him confirms his suspicions. The horror of being found out swirls dangerously around him. He would get in trouble for this, surely –

“I can’t leave you like this. C’mon,” Techno takes another step forward and Tommy moves back again.

He sees his mistake reflected in Techno’s eyes before he actually feels himself falling. It’s a nice feeling, familiar and comforting. He’d do stunts like this back in L’Manburg and it would freak Tubbo out endlessly. Tommy was a good flier. He could always scrape past the ground, letting the grass kiss his skin before saving himself. The feeling was good – it let him know he was in control. An alarmed shout from Techno quickly shatters the feeling like a pickaxe through glass. 

Tommy’s falling.

 _Oh_ , he’s going to _die_ –

A pair of large, red wings appear over the drop and descend towards him faster than he has ever seen. Tommy was the one built for speed. Techno’s wings always had _power_ behind them. Tommy remembers when he was young being knock onto his butt once by Techno taking flight.

Maybe Techno won’t make it to him in time –

He blinks, slow because the salty air is starting to sting, and when he opens them arms are wrapping around his middle. His back protests instantly, tears springing up in his eyes and he lets out a cry of pain. The momentum of falling being halted abruptly leaves his head feeling rattled and his entire body feeling like lightning had struck him.

One, two, forceful pushes of Techno wings allows them to land on the ground with a peaceful thud instead of the alternative brutal splat. It wasn’t exactly how he imagined reaching the ground today. Maybe a little more to the left.

Tommy frees himself of Techno’s grip and stumbles away. A pair of drums is beating on his back mercilessly and each pulse brings a new wave of pain. His knees hit the ground hard and he keels over to vomit into the grass.

Techno approaches him apprehensively, “Are you okay?”

Tommy shakes his head, using one dirt-stained hand to wipe away residue from his lips. He is scared to speak, worried the words will unleash another bout of puke. The thuds along his spine have dulled down a bit, but he hasn’t jostled his wounds that hard in a while.

Techno reaches down to help him up, “Let me look at your back, Tommy.”

His tone doesn’t leave room for arguments. So, Tommy lets Techno lead him back towards his tent. The blonde doesn’t have many supplies here, but he’s seen Techno do more with less many times before. He’d always admired that about the man. Techno sits him down on his cot, before turning to rummage through his chest.

“Take your shirt off,” He tells him. Tommy flexes his fists. He already knows that isn’t going to happen. He hasn’t been able to do that in days.

“I-I can’t,” He tells him. Techno pauses in his search and turns to look at the younger male.

“What?” He questions, authentic confusion lacing his voice.

“It’s hurts,” Tommy whispers. Instantly, a deep frown pulls Techno’s face down. Technoblade turns on Tommy, who lets the man lift the back of his shirt gently to inspect the poor wrap job he’d done nearly a week prior. He’s sure the bandages look disgusting – he just…couldn’t change them. He fights down tears in a fierce mental battle. He isn’t going to cry in front of this man. He _isn’t._

Techno pulls in a breath. He doesn’t say anything at all and Tommy thinks that might be worse than any accusations that could be thrown his way. The sound of a knife being pulled out briefly disturbs the silence before his shirt is being cut. Techno is slow, making sure not to jostle Tommy too badly. If he can’t lift his arms enough to _take off his shirt_ then Techno suspects that whatever is underneath the bandages is much worse.

The shirt is tossed to the floor. Techno uses the knife to create an end on the wrap so he can start unraveling it. The first few rounds, where he has Tommy lowly raise his arms to make room for the wrapping, are easy. Then, he gets to the bottom layer.

The bandages are a disgusting mix of deep maroons and yellows. Blood and puss fuse the bandages to his skin in some places, and Tommy hisses in pain as Techno peels them away. 

“Fuck,” Techno marvels at the condition of Tommy’s back. Whoever did this didn’t care about it being clean. One wing is completely cut off, not even a stump is left behind. His back has multiple deep cuts where whatever weapon was used cut into his skin as collateral. They obviously lost patience with the other wing, because half of it is still there, a few burgundy feather clutching on desperately.

Both wounds produce a heat Techno can feel by just hovering his hand over them. The area around the skin is swollen and red, and he can see a few pockets of infection that are close to the surface.

This is _despicable_.

“How’s it looking, big man?” Tommy’s voice shakes with a sad laugh. Techno doesn’t find any humor in this.

“Terrible,” He says. Techno turns back towards the chests. He isn’t going to have what he needs here at all. The wound is much, much worse than he could have imagined.

“ _Oh_ ,” Tommy breaths. Techno pulls out a rag and a singular healing potion with barely anything left in it.

“Turn,” He commands. Tommy pulls his legs up onto the bed and moves to face his back towards Techno. He curls into himself, shame creeping up his body. How much more useless could he get? He hears Techno coat the rag in what little liquid was left in the glass bottle, before tossing the thing onto the bed. Tommy’s eyes catch it as it rolls past him.

“Who did this?” Techno breaks the silence before it can really take root. Tommy keeps his mouth shut. He thinks Techno already knows, so why should he have to say it and evoke the other’s presence? He would be lucky if Dream didn’t show up at all today. He can’t imagine what Dream would do seeing Techno lurking around in _his_ lonesome exile.

“ _Tommy_ ,” Techno presses. Tommy uses the rag coming into contact with hot skin as his new excuse to avoid the question. His back arches inwards and away from the touch. The rag is like sandpaper on his skin. Cool, and soothing because of the potion, but rough nonetheless. He hisses through closed teeth.

“I swear, Tommy, if you don’t –” Techno starts again.

“You know who! Who else?” Tommy snaps back. He shoots the pink haired man a glare over his shoulder. Techno face twists up, obviously displeased with both the answer and delivery.

“Fine. I can’t imagine why, though, I knew Dream was ruthless but I never took him for cruel.” Techno frowns.

“Why would I let him keep the one thing he can use to escape exile?”

They both startle at the voice, heads whipping over to the entrance of the tent. Dream stands there, head tilted to the side and that stupid smile etched onto his mask. Tommy feels fear grip him so tightly he loses his breath.

Techno sets the rag aside and stands to his full height. He dwarfs Dream, which is impressive considering the masked man is already pretty tall. Dream has to move his gaze upwards slightly to meet Techno’s face.

“So, you nearly kill him?” Techno’s tense. You can see it in his shoulders and the way his jaw is held tightly. Dream lets out a short chuckle that irks Techno’s nerves.

“As you can see, he is very much alive.” Dream lifts a hand to gesture towards Tommy, who shrinks under the attention. His mouth is being kept tightly shut, mindful of when he will be allowed to speak – which, around Dream, has become much rarer.

“For how much longer?” Techno’s tone rises. Maybe it’s the anger he’s been suppressing this entire time finally receiving an appropriate outlet. He takes a step towards Dream, who doesn’t falter under the threat present in Techno’s every bone.

“For how much longer were you going to let him rot from the inside out?” Techno pushes forward again, this time forcing a finger against Dream’s chest.

“He’d live – he’s like a stubborn cockroach,” Dream moves to swipe Techno’s hand away. Tommy watches Techno turn into a raging storm in an instant. His free hand catches Dream’s, and he uses the other to shove the masked man away. Dream stumbles, surprised by the aggressive act. Tommy watches as the two flow out of the tent, like a receding ocean wave made of violence. Tommy scrambles to follow them.

Why did they have too –

He didn’t want –

Just _stop_ –

He was so tired of the violence that stalked him like a curse.

Outside, Technoblade had pinned Dream down, using his momentum from earlier to knock the other onto dewy grass. Techno’s fist connected, heavy and with intent, against Dream’s face. The mask stood little chance, cracking more and more under each hit. Dream laughed, and when some of the mask finally crumbled, he smiled wide with blood staining his teeth.

“A little mad, are we?” He taunts. Techno punches him again. He gets to see the amused glint in Dream’s green eyes next. He _loathes_ it. A deep and terrible thing that will have him shimmering for awhile after he is done here. 

He pulls the knife he used to cut Tommy’s shirt back out. Dream’s eye is trained onto the sharp tip.

“I’ll just come back. I always do,” He murmurs. Techno can’t find it in him to care. This isn’t about permeance, as nothing is infinite in their world. Techno, however, can admit he finds joy in the fleeting moments – where he knows it will only be for a short time and what a wasteful time it’ll be.

He’s fine with that.

Techno plunges the knife into Dream’s neck. The other holds on for an uncomfortable amount of time, blood rising through his lips and a wet gasp filling the air as he struggles to breath. Behind him, Tommy makes a similar noise. It must be startling, to see the thing considered unkillable in this land dying under his blade. He hopes he gets the same reaction if he ever falls victim to this fate.

(He won’t, not right now, not in this timeline.)

Dream’s body only leaves behind broken shards of his mask. Techno stands, and as he turns, he wipes his face with the hand holding the knife, unaware of the blood dripping off it. The red smears across his cheek.

Tommy is looking at him mortified. Dream will be angry at him – livid that this happened, surely. Techno is back to being stoic, like he drained every ounce of anger into Dream through the knife and was left with nothing at the end.

“Make a bag. We’re leaving,” He tells Tommy as he passes him. The younger boy opens his mouth to argue, lips quivering, before deciding against it. He turns, arms gripping himself, and hurries back to the tent. Techno is already there, using the cleaner end of Tommy’s old bandages to wipe the blood from the knife. He finds his eyes linger on Techno for too long. His head feels fuzzy and he isn’t sure he’s actually awake right now.

Techno catches him staring and grunts, “Hurry, Tommy. He’ll be coming back.”

This propels the younger boy forward. Techno scares Tommy, but Dream – Dream absolutely _ruins_ him. He can’t breathe right; his hands shake ever so slightly now whenever he thinks of the mask looming over his shoulders. Dream makes him feel helpless, like a dumb little baby bird before they learn how to fly. He would be so easy to knock out of the nest.

Tommy grabs his compass to Tubbo first. It’s the only one of his important items that wasn’t already in an Enderchest. Everything else he stashes into the bag is things he thinks Techno can use. He freezes when he feels something soft drape over his bare shoulders. It’s familiar jacket. One with tassels hanging off the shoulders and a blue, war-ish theme. Ghostbur had brought it too him when he complained about not having enough clothes. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was never going to wear this coat again.

“You’ll need this for the journey. It’s cold where we are going,” Techno tells him. Tommy nods and finishes up by tying the sack closed with the draw strings.

When Techno is done rummaging through the rag-tag assortment of things in his chests, he leads him down the wooden path towards the Ender Portal. The sight of it makes Tommy nervous. Dream could be back any moment, and he would be using this portal to do it.

They step through anyways. For a few minutes of travel, it’s like they’re heading back towards L’Manburg. It makes Tommy’s skin itch. Then at a fork in the path, Techno turns to climb up a small hill. Tommy follows with a much slower pace behind him, but Techno is patient with him, helping him when he gets to the top. It isn’t an obvious trail, but every so often there will be a blue torch or cloth placed in a over hang or tired to a Nether tree.

The end leads them to another Nether Portal. As they exit, Tommy’s eyes squint at the brightness of the sun bouncing off the snow. He watches as his breath dances away from his face, welcoming him into the cold biome. Techno brings him across a frozen river, past a small village, and over a hill. Tommy can feel fatigue pulling at his muscles as he descends down the side. The cold air makes his lungs ache.

Techno notices, because he always does, and he stops Tommy from walking any further, “Come on.”

The older man bends slightly, an invitation from the him to climb up. His red wings spread to make room for Tommy to clamber up. Then, when he is situated, they fold in like an embrace. His chilled face pushes against the feathers, envious of their warmth – something he’ll never feel organically from his own body every again. His eyes pull shut with nothing else to do.

Tommy wakes up in pain, instant and excruciating. His voice lets out a choked sob that is interrupted by a confused hiccup, like his body doesn’t know what to do, how to react to the vicious wake up call. He feels something touch him, and he lashes out blindly with a startled cry. The thing catches his hand, scaring him more, and making him try to jerk away like a cornered animal. 

“Hey! Hey –” A new voice, familiar in tone and comforting all around, “Tommy, it’s okay!”

“Phil?” His voice rasps as his eyes focus onto the blue clad man.

“Yeah, Toms, that’s me, You’re okay, right?” Phil asks, but he sounds too far away to be the thing gripping his hand. His eyes flick over to find Technoblade staring his him with furrowed brows.

“Be a little less of a feral raccoon,” Techno comments and drops his hand. Tommy pulls it to his chest, a little scandalized by the remark. He wrinkles his nose at Techno before he turns to looks back at Phil.

Phil with his black wings and their ruined, jagged ends. Tommy frowns at the burnt feathers; the holes in the wings that make it impossible to fly with them. Phil had no stakes in L’Manburg – had nothing to lose from its destruction, but somehow Wilbur still managed to steal something from him before he was killed.

Will was good at that – at getting the last laugh.

“My back burns really bad,” He tell Phil. The older man nods in understanding.

“We had to drain the infection, you’re probably feeling that, but hopefully now it’ll be able to heal,” Phil informs him. Techno arrives back on the scene and in his hands is a small, brown bowl.

“Just because it burns, doesn’t mean you’ll die,” Techno tells him as he hands the bowl over and the warm scent of mushroom soup fills his nose. It’s the first warm meal he’s had in days and it makes small tears gather against his lower lashes.

“Oh, Gods, please don’t cry,” Techno pleads. A laugh bubbles up and out of his mouth at that. Techno never did well with sappy tears. That was Wilbur’s or Phil’s job.

“It’s okay to cry, Tommy,” Phil overrules. Techno makes a disgusted sound at that. Tommy brushes away the wetness with the base of his palm.

“I just,” He blubbers, “I’m just overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do. What’s going to _happen_?”

“With your exile? With Dream?” Phil probes gently. Tommy nods as he fails to stop the flood gates.

“If that little worm shows up here, I’ll kill him again.” Techno growls. Phil shoots him a sideways glance.

“In so many words,” He confirms. Tommy looks down at the soup in his hands and takes a tentative bite. He can feel safe here, for now, more so, he thinks, than he ever did in L’Manburg. 

Tommy minds wanders to thoughts of Tubbo turning to look at him, an _I’m sorry_ coming out on mournful lips before he allowed Dream to take him away. The start of this terrible time in his life that led to him being gutted and left to decay in a still living body – to him making a tower high enough that the fall would kill him and him being smitten enough with the idea that it bordered on love.

He doesn’t hate Tubbo – that much he knows. But, if he stares out the window for too long because of the empty space he feels in his chest makes it seems like that’s the only thing he can do, then so be it. Tommy doesn’t hate Tubbo for the vacant space behind him. That’s not his fault.

But if, when the time comes, he chooses Technoblade over Tubbo – it isn’t because he hates him. 


End file.
